The Punishment
by Anesther
Summary: And the Ancient One proclaims, "Raava, as punishment for the failure of keeping Darkness bound, you will be cursed into human form until the next Harmonic Convergence," [Rated T or M-ish]
1. Author's Note

This is written for kiwipuffs on the Waava-Secret-Santa gift exchange. I wrote her this mini-multi-chapter-fic, as she requested 'anything'.

Things to know: if you are kiwipuffs, move right along, you fabulous hottie. Happy Christmas!

If you are not kiwipuffs: you're totally welcome to read and let me know what you think! I've had this idea since Beginnings aired, I just needed a reason to write it up—what better way than to give it as a present. So if you're wondering why an entire story is just sitting here with no reviews or whatever beforehand, that's why: 'cause it's for kiwipuffs! MWAHAHA.

Note: ch. 12 has some sexual material. What kiwi wants, she frickle-fracking gets.

Edit: January 30, 2014: adding new chapter as per Kiwi's blessing for the typos. I guess there really IS more I can add to this!

- All new chapters will be given Roman Numerals for fractions to differentiate them until I am positive I can't add anymore to this particular AU to avoid having to constantly rename each chapter.  
-Each new chapter to be recorded down in the AN for reference for, well, moi and for any shout-outs I want to give.

- Updates will not exactly be slow but I AM trying to finish other projects that have been wasting away. (coughSoIcanproperlydevotetimetoaddingtotheWaava/LoKarchivescough)

Critique is welcome, thank you for dropping by. :3

Peace~

Anesther


	2. I

_The Punishment_

* * *

**I**

The world broke.

Darkness had escaped the link that bonded him to Light and she curses her failure.

A human approaches quietly, on light, sandaled feet. Despite his seemingly normal appearance, the Lion-Turtle can, indeed, tell that he is not like the other humans who sought his aid. He takes responsibility for the freedom Darkness now relishes in.

The Spirit of Light is distraught and beside herself, and no one could blame her. There is a price to be paid for allowing Darkness to escape.

"I can help her," the human declares; the Lion-Turtle gazes into eyes as golden as the sun; they stare up at the Lion-Turtle, imploring, pleading and honest. The man has seen the error of his ways.

"Very well,"

The Light gives no indication that she heard but the Lion-Turtle is very aware of her feelings, anticipating the end of this meeting. He calls her forth and she glides with all the grace she can muster. She is weary, feeling goodness fade; despite whatever bravado she allows to permeate her exterior, she wants to collapse, though her burden has been, regrettably, lifted. The separation from Darkness, while bequeathing her a lightness of weight that she's never felt, has disturbed her greatly. They've never been apart. They've always been together, since the beginning.

In a quiet, terrible manner, she is lonely, not just alone.

For Darkness, it's a time to revel in freedom, spreading chaos and showing the world how corruptible it can be. Even now, the Lion-Turtle feels discord spreading through man and beast at an alarming rate—to fix any damage, however slight, will take centuries; lifetimes.

For Light, it's a time to accept her disgrace, and _that_ is heavier than being tethered to evil incarnate.

"You will assist one another as you search for your other half," he says; she will be reluctant.

"Yes, I will help the human,"

"As you know," the Lion-Turtle states, voice a low rumble, an earthquake, "There are consequences for failure,"

"I do," her voice is quiet, the fall of stars.

The human behind her is perturbed, the very air around him unnerved, "What consequence?"

"Silence, human," Light murmurs, glancing at him briefly.

The human has no fear as he steps forward, "No, what consequence?"

"It is a law that had been set since the beginning," the Lion-Turtle explains calmly; it is the way of the universe.

The man's face sets into a frown, not liking this direction; his gaze burns, "But it was my fault!"

"Even so, laws of spirits must be abided by our kind,"

The rest of the crowd around them flitter nervously, eyeing their protector with cautiously anxious stares.

Light moves closer to the Lion-Turtle, devoid of protecting herself; she'd failed. The Lion-Turtle felt the words form; to utter them is tragic, for his brothers and he did so want it to never happen.

Such is fate.

And the Ancient One proclaims, "Raava, as punishment for the failure of keeping Darkness bound, you will be cursed into human form until the next Harmonic Convergence,"

A strong cacophony rose into the air, yells and screams of protest escaping lips, tongues no longer dry; the fire-wielder's is the loudest of all.

Power flows from talons, foreboding and large; in an instant, it was over.

For her, it lasted too long. She screamed into depths she never knew she had, her connection to the universe ripped, then hastily patched together, an ugly, sloppy stitch.

She is scarred, no longer whole; no longer with Darkness…

The fire-wielder rushes to her, in shock.

When she lifts her heavy head, there are no tears in human eyes—they're not even thought of. All she _feels, _is a steady, throbbing emotion inside her core, in the marrow of bones, of flesh and blood; she keeps herself from tearing into the skin, from clawing out the heart that beats with vicious intent, from ripping this body apart, the emotion increasing with every second as she writhes inside herself.

The emotion buries inside the eternal soul trapped in mortal husk; yet it escapes from her eyes, pale as death.

This is the first thing she feels, and the first thing he sees: hate; pure, and undiluted.

In a burning land, Darkness laughs.


	3. II

**II**

* * *

"Thank you for saving us!"

"The spirits are out of control!"

"We've never had such problems!"

"The Spirit of Peace—why is she not helping?"

Raava flinches inwardly.

Glancing at her, Wan turns to the villager speaking to him, not mentioning her at all to any of them and no one asks.

Her appearance is enough to keep them at bay. She watches quietly as Wan provides the villagers with words of comfort, ensuring them that spirits are not violent by nature. She listens to him defend her kind; the hatred in her simply deepens.

Children watch them as the odd pair leave, murmuring about how deathly pale the woman looks.

She ignores them, head held aloft, eye contact averted, especially toward the man walking beside her.

She's studied the form many times alone, when the man is asleep. The moonlight never helps to add color. The skin is remarkably pale, even the cuticles transparent—the beds a pale purple color, as though the body is cold and nothing can warm them; the hair is tinged with silver when shadows fall through and snare tangles of it, reminding her of her other half—black trapped in white.

But it's the eyes she was fascinated with and only looked at once: a bluish white, nearly pupil-less, the black so faint it's not really there, and rimmed with grey; she felt disturbed at the sight of them—translucent, wide with curious fear, and she saw how lonely they were.

She hates this human body. She wishes she had died when Vaatu escaped. This body is dying all around her, making her sick with grief and overwhelming emotions that she's never experienced in her lifetime.

They are silent as they leave, silent as he looks at her, silent as she ignores his presence.

The beating of the heart inside her makes her ill.

At night, her life is repeated—staring at white, never the eyes of that wise blind creature in the water. Day comes, and the man is ignored.

She sighs quietly. She prefers her other cycle.


	4. III

**III**

She spoke to him only once, to clarify her cruel sentence, "Harmonic Convergence is in a human year,"

After that, Wan had attempted frail motions of conversation, his easygoing and amicable nature at a loss with her frosty façade; beneath the lacy veneer of her attitude, he sensed a distraught restlessness beneath the skin and he sought to correct it, too. However, she was determined to remark his existence as little as possible.

Wan is ashamed of the current state she is in. He had grown so connected to the ways of spirits, yet two years of experience and study had not granted him enough sense, even in miniscule portions. He had behaved as man would—with ignorance. He should've thought better, or, at the very least, made an effort to _walk away_.

Raava was right, it did not concern him.

But the voice of Darkness had sounded so pitiable to him, and his sympathetic view on the matter overpowered any rational sense.

Wan knew this is all his fault and he swore to help to fix his mistake.

But how could he help someone who pretended he wasn't even alive?

Today, she made every effort to walk as far along the path from him as the bond between them would allow—neither she nor he can abandon the other during this crisis, no matter how high the tension. It's a quiet agreement.

Wan, though, knew he must ask…

"We haven't practiced transferring the Elements,"

She didn't even halt her steps; her answer curt, "Indeed."

A response is better than nothing, "When should we start?"

"When we reach the river,"

He wonders what river she is talking about, but within an hour, a river glistened into view. Wan wants to ask how she knew it was there but from the look on her face, he decides against it. Mula walks toward the water and drinks. Wan briefly does the same before turning, with a bit of apprehension, toward Light.

"How does this work?"

Raava's gaze is distant, her eyes unseeing the flora that dances beatifically in the breeze, "Spirits enter human bodies for short periods of time to possess them; as I am sure you are aware, this will kill humans if any longer than a few moments,"

"Yes," Wan answers, recalling his friend, the Aye-Aye.

"To pass anything to a human is the same—not just traits of the spirit, but anything the spirit might be holding. As I am not in my true form, I cannot pass through your body to deliver the Elements to you,"

Her eyes flash momentarily with bitterness.

Wan shifts on his feet uncomfortably. He says, "What if you transfer them the way the Lion-Turtle did?"

"The Ancient One's methods cannot be mimicked."

"I know," he hastily agrees, "Just… can't you do what he did?"

Raava turns on her heel, disturbingly empty in the sunlight. She closes the distance between them, raising her hands, almost warily.

The proximity is tense—her face set, stony in the silence. Wan's heart beats fast in his chest, suddenly fearing her hands. Her anger softly seeps into the air, and despite her lax pose, he doesn't want those white limbs around or near any vital areas. She's too upset…

As he thinks this, his breath hitches when those hands lift and come close to his neck—

A thumb is placed upon his forehead, another upon his chest. He swallows quietly, nervous. Her eyes are too blank…

She says nothing as she feels blood pump beneath the skin, warmth transferring through her fingers—the Elements or his body heat?

After a few seconds disguised in eternity, she releases her hold.

He steps away, flexing his fists as his pulse slows; his mind rationally says to breathe; in a crevice, it cheers: he escaped danger.

"Try it," she murmurs.

Wan inhales deeply, spins on the balls of his feet, and air rushes through his lips, from his hands.

"It's different," he replies.

He practices without her instruction, at a distance. She holds Fire inside her now, and Air is not his Element—new, invisible, and gentle; its strength against what he knows is undetermined.

So he glides away from her, where it's safer in the brush.

Raava sighs, staring at the body's hands, remembering anger flow inside. Murder is a human concept.

She smiles.

She's not so low yet.


	5. IV

**IV**

The third Lion-Turtle rose from the depths of the sea. The trek had been long and arduous, but the pair crossed the threshold of land. Sand softly crunches beneath their feet. Wan gives Mula a silent pat as he approaches the Lion-Turtle. Currently, Raava holds Fire and Air, so that he may explain the situation—it's his responsibility.

Raava glances down at her feet, watching water lap the earth; the gravelly texture is not unknown to her, the same way she knew the river would be where it was. She knows the world, having marked where things are, even if only to herself. She doubts Vaatu ever took the time to pay attention to certain surroundings.

She kneels, having the chance, and scoops the sand into her hands, watching it trickle through pale fingers. Sunlight makes it sparkle a little, and she wonders if holding stars would be the same way.

Mula nuzzles her shoulder, startling her. She lets out a soft breath then, tentatively, strokes the cat-deer's muzzle.

Quietly, Raava continues to pet the creature, finding herself slowly begin to ease, "I'm a little…"

A little what? She cannot say. It's an odd feeling.

"Anxious," that makes a bit more sense.

Mula lays beside her, a creature and spirit, with little to no understanding of the world around them, despite having spent years in its woods and space. They share a kindred sense of confusion, for this is different to both of them.

"You trust him, don't you?"

The cat-deer simply raises its head, and stares at her human face with earnest.

"You ready to go?" Wan asks, coming up to them and settling himself down.

Mula stretches his neck, and Wan softly scratches his nose, the cat-deer purring beneath his touch.

"Yes," Raava says, but nobody moves; she simply watches man and beast bask in their friendship, the affection evident.


	6. V

**V**

The destruction of herself had repercussions—she had none of the powers she held before, save for when the human needed the Elements; and, too, she had none of the awed reverence from spirits and humans alike, their minds one and the same.

For what good is she like this?

She was beginning to recognize this emotion: frustration. It builds and builds, leaving her singularly annoyed at the man that is practicing with the Elements.

"You're not moving fast enough,"

Wan turns toward her, spinning on the ball of his foot, "I'm trying,"

Raava folds her arms across her chest—then hurriedly puts them back at their sides; ridiculous human gestures, "You are clearly not trying hard enough,"

"What do you want me to do?" Wan asks, perspiration beads sliding down his forehead, agitation defined in his frown, "Learn all the Elements in a fortnight?"

"That would be preferred," Raava snaps, turning away irritably, "Perhaps you should consider the possible idea of stopping to help people less, and focus on the exact mission you need to help me with,"

"Hey," Wan barks, pointing a finger at her—his personal human gesture, she can't help but notice, "those people were in danger; was I just supposed to leave them?"

"Yes," Raava stiffly answers, for it's the truth. Foolish man, and he's supposed to be helping her, not every passerby that they happen to stumble across, "That's what must sometimes happen, for a greater good,"

Wan stares at her in disbelief, twin golden suns burning, "I can't believe you'd say something like that. I thought you were the Spirit of Light and Peace,"

There is this wavering in his voice that makes her hate him more, "You just said it. I was."

Without another word, Raava turns away from him, walking out of the clearing and into the forest, knowing that she wounded him, rubbing in her barely constrained dislike of him into his face. A fresh emotion swells up inside her, a rather pathetic, feeble little thing, as though it is trying to make her feel bad.

She glances over her shoulder, Wan sitting upon the grass, looking dejected, fingers threading into his hair as Mula nudges him quietly.

It succeeds, just a little bit.


	7. VI

**VI**

The time to fight was approaching with a slow pace, almost annoyingly so.

Tensions are high, surmounting indefinitely into the clouds, where there were only patches of white and blue—smoke billowing in long funnels, dragon's breath scorching air and landscape.

Wan crumples onto the ground, darkened hands flitting across a small face, shaking despite the horrid heat.

Slowly she approaches, face impassive, aloof and clean in the surrounding red; he stares at her over his shoulder, numb, though he keeps weeping, and he wants to hate her, too—the fiery light, gold and ruby, stains the pristine body in a velvety yet harsh crimson, her pale features enhanced by the shadows, and the dying sun does nothing to make it better.

She resembles a monster, a sick, ghostly demon drenched in phantom blood, the glow of embers and raging fires engulfing the homes; he kneels in real blood, human blood, so he hates her—for she hates him, consider it mutual damn it—swallowing painful lumps in his throat; it surprises him how much he can, and further how much he doesn't, care.

He simply holds the body closer, silently dismissing her.

She was never one for subtlety, worse so in understanding the humanity around her, "He needed to be stopped,"

"I know,"

A crawling sensation occurs deep within her; she shifts on her feet, "I did what had to be done."

"This didn't have to be the cost…"

Suddenly feeling ill, Raava draws up her human frame, "I…"

At the time, it seemed a most rational decision. There, above the village, tormenting them, had been her other half. She had felt him and responded in kind. Darkness covered the whole place, encased the area with volatile, manic spirits.

Wan had been ushering out the villagers, voice hoarse from shouting and the smog, several of them rushed out of danger on Mula. He held the Element of Earth, acquired newly, and proceeded to use the planet itself to put out the flames—but he needed Water. He called out to her.

She paid him no heed, for despite the human form, she felt the pull, the familiar rough tug that told her she must be chained to the Darkness. It is their way.

In a moment of what she can only reflect on now as desperation, as her true self was locked behind flesh, she harnessed the Elements in her, calling upon Fire without thought—it tore Evil and Good apart, it will unite them back—and hot energy blasted through her fingertips, pallor demonic as her features twisted.

She had made everything worse.

Uncontrolled, emotional spurts laid devastation in their wake.

She heard him—the boy, the human who ruined her existence—pleading fiercely, warning her that is not Fire's purpose. What did humans know, especially him—he, who ruined her, made her someone else? And, furthermore, what did they matter...?

_Not at all._

So flames grew with the rapidity of fallen bodies, Darkness laughing as Light drove on, almost hysterical in her efforts to claim him back to her, to retrieve him, to not fail; she's been weakening since their separation. All she wanted was to have him back.

She stares at him, the man, now, hands clenching before she could stop the body from doing so.

"You're supposed to be_ good_," Wan murmurs.

Raava licks the suddenly dry lips, eyes downcast as she struggles to breathe. He's right. She is supposed to be good—and if not that, she supposed to be wiser, smarter, more understanding than this.

She is the Spirit of Light and Peace, the protector of the world and the one beyond it. That is her purpose.

Being in this human body shouldn't change that, and yet somehow it had—these emotions had overpowered her senses, making her forget everything, what being herself actually means… But these are not excuses.

She had made an error, a poor sense of judgment of her surroundings and her capabilities.

Spirits are bound to certain laws, and humans have their own; what can be done with a spirit trapped in a mortal body? What laws is she bound to? Does she still protect everyone else above herself, or should she give into the selfish greed that has been brewing inside her body ever since she was trapped in it?

Who is she, what world is hers?

Of its own accord, the body she is in kneels beside the weeping man, slender digits gripping his shoulder, a taut line pulling her closer toward him, the gentle lull of waves before being pulled under.

"I'm sorry,"

He finally turns to look at her again, the whites of his eyes bloodshot, contrasting with the gold of the irises, and she can't help feeling that it's hard to stare at watery fire. Her gaze falls on the little body that he's holding, the child dead, but this is easier for her to look at—she's never died, but she understands it; much more than she understands all of this.

Suddenly, his head is pressing against her shoulder, and though shocked by it, she allows him to be there; she's cost him enough grief in return.

They are even.

They are accidents.

They are only human.


	8. VII

**VII**

She had lightened considerably towards him since the recent events involving the village. Though still incredibly firm and strict when it came to mastering the Four Elements, Raava took it upon herself to be more conscientious of her attitude and forgiving of his mistakes.

Living as a human wasn't as simple as the spirits back home used to make it seem; she, too, had been ignorant. Being in the presence of darkness incarnate would tend to do that to any creature, she was forced to admit to herself—for all her age, all her wisdom, all her knowledge of the ways of the universe, and she had learned something about what she is supposed to represent, and about the man's humanity.

They slept that night beneath a bonsai tree; something inside weighed her down, breathing little in the black, a quiet thunder. When she awoke to the sight of the moon, a pearly glow emitting downward, painting the world in a silver sheen, she touched the face she stared out at from and the digits touched her first tears.

She had grieved.

She slowly glanced at the man behind her, slumbering peacefully. But his expression was troubled.

Faintly, the memory of his head upon her shoulder skimmed the surface of her thoughts. The body was compelled to hold him, apologize over and over…

Raava remained awake the rest of the night, watching him sleep, and wondering how he could stand it.

Observing him now, his kicks becoming more agile, body fluid in motion, Raava notes that even when he is concentrating, there is the faint upward tip of his mouth, as though he can find something to smile about.

Is this with all humans, or just with him?

Wan pauses in his training, wiping sweat from his brow and stares over at her, feeling her gaze; perplexed at the expression on her face, he raises an eyebrow. She has been watching him more frequently since that night when she burned down the village. Why? Is she waiting for him to do something? Clearing his throat, Wan brushes away the thought of staring at how the sunlight reflects on her hair.

"Um, do you need me to do anything?"

Raava attempts to stop her blink, but fails, surprised at his question, "No,"

He rubs the back of his neck, "Oh, all right,"

Mula chews on the grass, oblivious to the awkward air.

Raava notes this too; another feeling she doesn't like.


	9. VIIS

**VIIS**

* * *

The cold had been unbearable.

A gathering storm declared its presence in the distance. She had never noticed how fierce the elements themselves could be. It is not ignorance on her part; more the fact she could never witness it. The wind blew a chilly gust from the north, overtaking their senses. Mula, unused to such climates, struggled to keep going, but Wan wouldn't hear of it and made sure to seek shelter from the treacherous weather.

Raava scanned the open terrain, recalling anything that could be of use. A cave, just a short trek ahead, came into her mind's eye from deep in her memory. She motioned for them to follow, leading the way through increasing gales. Finally, they rushed into the hollowed crevice as the winds picked up their speed. Mula stamped anxiously, Wan doing his best to calm his companion. Raava simply stared out at the blustering leaves, taking in the darkening view.

It's not a hurricane, or anything of that nature, but there will be devastation afterward. The usual zephyrs are simply too strong.

Had she not realized how fond she was becoming of the human, she would've suggested that now would be a good time for that inane chivalry and obsequious desires to come into play. But he could not handle nature itself right now. So they huddled into the mouth of the cave, trying to keep as far from the entrance as possible.

She looked at him askance, surveying the bent posture, knees pressed to his chest. Their…camaraderie (the only word she can think to label this relationship) is diminishing in antagonism, ever since she allowed him to mourn on her shoulder, smelling of grief and smoke. He was so…sensitive, for a man. This was an aspect of his character that she still couldn't fathom properly—even being the Spirit of Peace, she remained from performing servile duties, leaving him to be the true spokesperson to his kind.

Mula managed to sleep much more quickly than the two humans. They lay facing opposite each other. Even with the draft creeping in, icy death in the lungs, their backs refused to touch.

Raava shut her eyes, willing this body to sleep.

"You awake?"

"Unfortunately," her eyes remained closed.

"Sorry," he whispered. Despite the howling outside, she could hear him clear enough.

"Do you think it will last long?"

"Hopefully not," her teeth suddenly rattled and she kept the jaw tightly locked. Ridiculous body.

Fire bloomed, red and orange dancing lazily across the walls; she turned to glance at him, staring at the living heat in his hand. She narrowed her eyes, "You're _just _making fire now?"

He rolled his eyes, gold catching the light, "There's no actual _wood _here, so I didn't see a point until I felt and heard you shaking,"

Snorting, Raava whirled back to face the wall, its shadows blending into each other.

Silence stretches uncomfortably, both of them pointedly ignoring the other, back to the beginning. Raava surmised correctly: there are still too many instances where they snap at each other, which neither of them enjoys—it's only the three of them. But they haven't figured out just how to breach through the other's barriers.

Wan's eyes rest on her figure, sighing, "Sorry about that,"

"It's all right."

Another momentary lapse of conversation; then, "I'm sorry too,"

"It's okay," he answered, voice as low as hers.

Still uncomfortable… they're allies, they shouldn't fight. Wan, not the type to just let things lull itself into the chasm, took a leap, clearing his throat, "This reminds me of how Mula and I used to wander around,"

Raava, still unable to nab even unconsciousness, decided to listen, "Before we met,"

It's not a question, so Wan simply agrees, "Yeah. We actually traveled pretty far."

"How far?"

"Let's see…" he tilted his head back, thinking, "We climbed a couple of mountain paths, those were difficult but it was a sight to see landscapes beneath us," he suddenly beamed brightly, "Mula liked it best when we were wandering in the woods, since he's used to it, and there were a lot of beautiful alcoves. Mula and I also wandered through a lot of fields, and there were no people around—just a bunch of vegetation and the occasional spirit,"

Raava realized she had been listening intently, imagining all the areas he spoke of—his voice was soothing, the huskiness of a hearth, and she had been drifting comfortably, "Were any of the meadows a golden color?"

"Yes, actually: there's this one where, when the sun hit it a certain way, it kind of looks like the grass is its own sun, and it shifts so it shimmers. It was pretty amazing," he answered, turning to her, "Why? You know that place?"

"Seen it on occasion," she remarked, trying to keep any interest out of her tone of voice.

Wan doesn't bother doing the same, "Wow, hey, do you happen to know what it's called?"

"It doesn't have a particular name. It's simply there."

"It should have a name, I think,"

"Are you going to bequeath it one?" Not that she's curious or anything.

He laughed, as full of glow and warmth as the flame he held, "I wouldn't be able to come up with anything clever,"

Though not wanting to, she finally rolled onto her other side, propping her head up, "You can't come up with a simple moniker, even?"

"No," he replied deftly, still smiling, at ease in the discussion, "Do _you _have one?"

She blinked then narrowed her eyes, pale shades of blue reflecting the gold, the moon set aflame, "I? Name the meadow? What a ridiculous thing to suggest,"

"Oh come on, just think of something,"

"If you are not able to think of anything, what makes you believe a spirit will fare better?"

"You're smarter than me, though,"

"What does intelligence have to do with giving places titles? Even the daft can do that,"

Grinning, Wan turned in his seat to face her better, the fire setting his skin aglow, slightly bronze, leaving Raava to quell the thoughts of how lovely that looks to her: the contrast of golden tones against sable strands.

A void swells in the chest, and she doesn't want to think about filling this inner darkness with the clashing firelight and dusk of his eyes.

She can hear Vaatu laughing.

"You and I can fight about almost anything,"

"We do not fight about everything,"

"That's why I said 'almost,' Raava," he said her name so easily and here she still struggled to say his.

"Well, now _you're _being smart,"

"In what way?"

"What is it you humans say—being smart in the mouth?"

Wan's smile got bigger, "You're trying to insult me,"

"Is it working?"

"Not really,"

She blew a huff of air through her mouth, flipping hair over her shoulder, "You're not smart enough the literal way to actually ponder any sort of sting, so it's possibly that as well,"

"Hey!" he exclaimed, a little louder than intended, prompting Mula to kick him in the side.

Raava let out a chuckle, hiding it behind her hand. Wan grumbled, rubbing his new bruise, but glad to have the mood brighter. Until he lived with the spirits, it never occurred to him how much he really disliked tension of any kind, or, at least, he forgot about the constant worry of finding food and shelter, and all the tensions of being an orphan.

Raava caught it—the look he sometimes gets. His gaze is distant, far from where his body is. Sitting up completely, she tentatively inched closer to him, aware of the heat of his form, not just the flickering flames, "May I ask what you're thinking of?"

Wan did not break from the reverie entirely, but he looked down at her, smiling apologetically, "Just old memories,"

Raava was not sure what compelled her to ask, yet it seemed natural at the time, companionable, friendly, "Would you like to tell this spirit something new for her?"

His eyebrow rose; inwardly, Wan was very much surprised by her question—throughout the few months together, she has never taken an interest to _actually _know him, "You want to know about me?"

"What else is there to know?" she stated factually, for there was no one else to connect to. No, not…connect to, exactly. But he was the only living thing here to contemplate in this cold little cave.

Unoffended, but a little disappointed that the motivation was because he was the _only _thing here to talk about, Wan closed his eyes briefly before turning to her, "Okay, well…it's not exactly, um, exciting?"

"Exciting?" her voice rose to match his, "You're wondering if I'll be bored?"

"No, not that, I guess," he told her, switching the fire to his other palm, "It's just not something I've told any spirit before. Pasts don't really matter to spirits all that much,"

"True," she answered, "To be fair, however, I'm not exactly myself,"

"Right…" his voice trailed off, staring at his lap. She knew he was starting to feel terrible about the incident again. Where, a while ago, she would've felt justified seeming him wallow in guilt, an urge to pat his hand sprung up inside. Confused, she simply murmured, "I'm waiting for that story,"

Wan did not look completely satisfied; however, he raised his head to stare up at the rocky ceiling, "I don't know, I was just thinking about different types of tension and the ones I had as a kid,"

"What sort of childhood did you have?"

"I ran around stealing food when I could,"

"You _stole _from people?" Raava asked incredulously. This was certainly different from the Wan she stared at.

"I didn't have any parents at a young age, so I did what I could to survive," he answered, tone still mellow, accepting his wrongs after almost a lifetime of denying them, "I'm not proud of it or anything. It's just something I had to do at the time."

Raava continued to look at him for a few moments, taking in the face of a man she barely knew, caught up in the revelation, "You said you did not have parents. Was this common in your village?"

Wan rubbed the back of his neck to sooth an ache, "I guess. Looking back, it wasn't exactly ideal grounds for kids without guardians and whatnot, but it's the way it was."

"That sounds horrible," she said, meaning it. While she was a spirit underneath this temporary visage, she had been under the impression that, despite humans being what they were, children would be a priority, no matter where they were from. It seemed that she, indeed, still held some naïveté in spite of her ageless existence. These both troubled and, oddly, delighted her. The former because it meant she had aspects of the world to learn, still. The latter for the same reason, but, too, on the basis that remained to be different from Vaatu. He would never try to understand how the world works. She could.

"Yeah, that kind of crap still happens to other kids—that's not good. But, for me, it wasn't all bad," Wan assured her, shrugging, "Sometimes I could get a break from a merchant if I did something for them in return, and, with other kids having problems, it wasn't like I was alone for too long."

"That's not the same as feeling lonely,"

Licking his lips, Wan met her gaze, both their faces illuminated by the fire that caused this all, "Have you ever felt lonely?"

The Spirit of Light turned the head of the body to face the growing darkness, swallowing even the faintest moonlight. "We should attempt to rest,"

Wan breathed out, discouraged; he wanted to know her, too, "Yeah, we should."

Extinguishing the fire, they were wrenched back in darkness, their backs to each other once again. Wan breathed slowly, falling into a different black, soft, warm, where everything made sense and he hadn't messed up.

"The Halcyon Fields,"

"What?" he pulled himself out of his shadows.

"The meadow you mentioned. That can be its name. If you'd like,"

"The Halcyon Fields," he whispered, trying it out. For some reason, this unnerved her, wondering what his opinion would be.

"I like it," he said, voice holding no fallacy. She can hear the smile on his face.

Their backs touched.

The creeping loneliness became as distant as the meadow.


	10. VIII

**VIII**

"Are you sure this is quite…?"

"Sane?"

"'Safe', I was going to say 'safe,'"

"Uh-huh, sure you were,"

This was not how the day was supposed to go.

The dawn greeted them as usual, though a tint of shadow laced the dazzling blue and gentle pink; the group rose to continue their journey, lumbering on.

Mula demanded to rest and Wan conceded immediately, nuzzling each other affectionately. Raava was slowly learning to appreciate the pause from tenuous strain and sat as gracefully as the body would allow. Wan, too, appreciated the situation—he was restless, withal, staring at the distant gray behind them; promptly, he rushed off spirit and cat-deer puzzled; after a while of stroking Mula's sleeping form, Wan burst through the brush, grinning, and brandishing triumphantly a large hunk of wood.

Raava stared, declared, "Have you no shame?" and next thing she knew—no doubt having missed a crucial point to dissuade Wan's smooth talk—the spirit is seated on the makeshift board, body as rigid.

"How did you even come across this?"

"The board or the idea?"

"Both." She says, curiosity growing despite her anxiety—it's been happening more of late.

Wan smiles, patting her shoulder with a warm hand, which she glances at, "Well, I was lucky to find the board—just need a dead tree, but the idea is from my friends,"

"Your human friends?"

"No," Wan's expression droops a fraction but it's so fast she wonders if it was there, "my spirit friends back home; they're _extremely_ fun,"

Spirits taught him this? This seems like such a human activity… There were certainly more playful spirits, but she had always assumed her kind too dignified to behave in such a way. How else is she different from her fellow spirits?

"All right! Ready?"

"Y-Yes!" She had _stuttered, _arms suddenly about her shoulders, her arms, a pair of hands encasing themselves before the body's chest. The heart is beating rapidly, confused as to why, Raava simply attempts to breathe.

"Hey," Wan says, voice low due to their closeness.

"Yes?"

He smiles sheepishly, "I need the Earth element,"

Obligingly, Raava turns slowly, almost hesitatingly, and performs the motion, still trying to comprehend why she is feeling flustered.

Feebly, Raava watches as they lean closer to the edge of the hill, tilting and says, "We should be practicing,"

He laughs, "This counts,"

Then she is forgetting everything that she was supposed to say and everything she wants to say, reveling quickly in the speed and acceleration as they slide downhill, the earth beneath them softening to allow the board free movement. The clothes she is wearing billows, the hair attached to her head whipping about her face, slightly obscuring her vision, yet she keeps an eye on everything. A warmth blooms inside her chest that has nothing to do with the fact that his arms are still somehow around her, heart pounding from something else.

She is suddenly laughing, the sound so foreign it's inhuman—but she's human, and indulging in it, the man behind her laughing as well as they speed along; Wan flicks his wrists, extending his arms, and a wall of dirt rises, curving them and the board. Raava's eyes widen, so does the grin.

Suddenly they're off the ground, flying; she's forgotten what it feels like—so much so, tears escape, and yet she doesn't feel sad at all.

They fall, the tall grass alleviating the blow of the landing.

Wan and Raava laugh hysterically, man and spirit, catching their breath as they roll in a sea of green blades, the sky a cheery blue, the sun high. There are no shadows.

She sighs, pleased—this feeling is acceptable, nice.

"You didn't have the Earth element before meeting me," she muses conversationally, "How did you do this back then?"

"It's pretty nice having different spirits as friends," he says, winking at her.

She tilts her head, bemused, still smiling, "What's that?"

"Hmm?"

"What you just did?"

"This?" he blinks one eye.

She nods.

"It's called a 'wink,'"

Raava props herself up on her elbows, "What does it signify?"

Wan mimics her movement, thinking how best to explain, "It's usually used between people to reveal a secret, mostly a joke; it's also another form of greeting or sign of affection."

"What did it mean when you did it to me?"

He stares at her a moment, then grins, "Guess,"

She's not sure what's occurring but it's amusing, this playful side, Darkness far from her thoughts, "It cannot be a greeting—we've met and have yet to part,"

"Right," he answers, voice a little low.

"It is not a secret—you've told me; so, perhaps, a joke?"

"Plausible, very plausible,"

She licks her lips nervously, "A sign of affection, then?"

"That's a pretty good guess,"

Raava glances down, pale fingers digging into green, and lies on her back, staring at the sky for a moment before closing her eyes. The warmth fades slightly, as well as the sunlight. She opens blank eyes, a canvas of pale blue, and they greet the sun. Wan hovers over her form; the silence deafens, blood and pulses reverberating in her ears.

She is about to speak, but his face moves closer, and there's red glimmering in the gold. His mouth touches hers and heat instantly spreads in a shock of unknown colors, tingling sensations beautifully sewing itself into her skin, her muscles, her heart pounding until she is sure breathing is impossible.

He pulls away, her body aching from the lack of him.

Murmuring, she licks her lips once, "What was that?"

"'Fun,'" he replies cheekily.

She rolls her eyes, the action an instant one she will dwell on later, "The technical term,"

"It's called a 'kiss.'"

Tentatively, she strokes his face, the act instinctual; but it was deliberately thought of, and she lets her fingers linger on his skin, trailing downward until the tip of her forefinger is upon his lips, "What does that mean?"

"A lot of things," Wan whispers, mouth barely moving. He opens his mouth a little, unnerved, the thought of biting down upon her finger goes across his mind; his face is flushed and he knows it, but she looks too preoccupied with thoughts to notice.

The exhilaration reminds her of flying on the board, experiencing his body heat behind her frame, "…does it mean 'affection', as well?"

"That's one excellent meaning," he replies, brushing her forehead with the back of his hand, to think of something else, something more innocent.

She pulls him closer, arms wrapping around his neck, tasting him carefully as he threads his hands into her hair, and she sighs. She's determined to find out what else it means.


	11. IX

**IX**

Wan was grinning stupidly all the rest of the day and this morning. Mula had watched Wan practically skip, perplexed as to why Wan was walking but had no qualm with it. Raava glances at Wan beneath lashes of snow, her expression neutral though she, too, wore a similar giddy face inwardly. It was beyond anything she's experienced so far; she had been drowning, falling deep in the taste of spices and wildflowers, yet she drank sunlight, caught the scent of wood-smoke, in a moment of something more complete when his tongue ran along her teeth and she thought she'd ascended—

"Raava!"

Her reverie severed, she turns to the object of her thoughts, "Yes?"

"Can I use the Earth?"

"Of course, Wan,"

His heart flips, trilling soundly at the motion of her mouth forming his name, her voice. For him, he was not sure when he started to fall for her…

The attraction was slow, burning barely, a mere ember. The image of her in red, silent, brooding, bodies lain upon the ground, massless, blank, naked and weeping, haunted him for several nights. Still does. He had been broken, disappointed in her actions, as she had undoubtedly felt for him. The experience of death and grief had hardened an aspect of himself, holding that dead child, skin burnt, hair singed, surrounded by flames; it was painful.

Then, she had changed. Her words kinder, gentler, veiled in more patience than prejudice. It was as though a light flickered on.

Illuminated, the antagonism dissipated, Wan knew all of this was still his fault, and her knowledge of humanity and its wide spectrum of emotions was still difficult for her.

In turn for her acceptance, he offered to help her understand. His mind jolted when she agreed. Since then, as his awareness of the Elements and spirits grew, so did her concepts of mortality.

She may not see it in herself, but she liked watching sunlight glimmer at the edge of water, lazing in the shade of trees; brightened when she gazed at meadows and loved looking at the stars. It reminded her of Vaatu and herself, she said, quietly, as though the sight would leave if spoken louder.

"With all that darkness, there's still light to see," Wan murmured, thinking aloud.

She glanced at him, surprised, "Exactly,"

Wan was certain he fell completely after that.

His face sets, determined, "Practice with me,"

"How do you mean?" She asks, confused but no longer with disdain.

"When we fight Vaatu, we'll need to be able to pass the Elements quickly,"

Raava silently considers this, then, when he is certain she'll say no, "Very well,"

Without thinking, he grips her hand, not catching the hitch in her throat with the blush in her cheeks.

"All right, let's try this,"

It is a sloppy affair, but the two dance, Wan cautiously controlling the Elements as Raava attempts to hit the bodily points accurately, never daring to bend them herself.

Several times their mouths nearly brushed but they trudged on, aware of higher stakes.

It is not until the sun sets, highlighting bloody tinges into dark and light hair, that Raava pants, "When did you decide upon this?"

"A while back, but…"he trails off.

"But with the way things were, it was not possible," she states simply.

"Exactly," he answers, surprised but pleased she knows, and understands.


	12. X

**X**

Months flit by, Harmonic Convergence drawing upon their necks, an icy shroud. As they practice, their movements swift, knowing exactly where the other will step—sometimes before the other does—their trust grows. The journey is flecked with the occasional pause to aid human residences, their training akin to clockwork.

Wan bends, Raava transfers.

People speak of the legend, the element-wielder and the woman in white, their prowess seen as otherworldly. Despite the pleas for help, the couple and strange hybrid steed trek further north, crossing thresholds-as this will benefit all.

Descending from the mountains, learning above the world, in cold dark skies, Wan and Mula find themselves back home. Excitedly, Mula stamps on rapid hooves.

"I know, Mula," Wan says, rubbing his companion behind the ear, "we're back,"

"Your home?" Raava inquires.

"Yeah, it's where we used to live,"

Raava takes in the view, a spiritual energy strongly conveyed in the air, but barrenness is settled here. Wan, she is certain, is not aware of the damage to the land of fire-wielders. She opens her mouth when the scent of smoke halts her.

"Wan," Raava begins, holding out her hand to keep him at bay.

But Wan had already caught the smell, staring out into the direction where it was coming from. Striding over toward Mula, he deftly climbs on, stretching his hand out toward her, "Come on,"

Raava doesn't hesitate, though she is anxious about what awaits them.

As they draw closer to the area where they got the smell, the atmosphere begins to thicken. The three of them look about, scanning slowly, when Mula suddenly releases a growl, baring fangs.

Wan and Raava whirl in their seats, the former hopping down from his steed and taking a defensive stance. Raava soothingly pats Mula's neck, though the cat-deer isn't keen to stop.

Fire suddenly swallows some trees, causing Mula to stumble backward to stumble backward, snorting in agitation.

Shadows move within shadows, flames lapping up the roots. Raava slides off the instant that Wan turned to her, touching him quickly. Wan spins on the balls of his feet, shrinking the flames to nothing with several flicks of his wrist and arms; a jet of red and gold hurls in their direction, which he blocks, furious, "Stop! What do you think you're doing?"

A group of men rush out, staring him down and his companions. Mula and Raava move closer toward him, Wan preparing himself for any counterattack. He recognizes several of them; some he had grown up with, some he used to be chased down by when he was searching for food as a boy, with an occasional face that he could neither name nor recall.

But he knows them. These are his people.

And they've managed to destroy themselves.

Hands up in a placating gesture, Wan shouts, "Easy, we're friendly,"

Grumbling emanates from the other side, but before any other remarks can be made, a voice yells, "Wan! It's you!"

Wan peers into the crowd, the voice faintly familiar; a burly, hulking figure steps forward and despite the change in his appearance, he could recognize Jaya anywhere.

Wan smiles both in relief and happiness, meeting his old friend halfway, "Jaya, I can't believe that's you!"

Up close, Jaya's whole outward appearance wasn't the only thing that is different— there are lines drawn in his face, dark circles beneath his eyes and a hard look in his gaze that superbly matched everything about him.

Jaya laughs, one loud note, "So you did leave! We thought you did—seeing's how you were nowhere to be found in the Spirit Wilds,"

Raava steps daintily forward, stopping directly beside Wan; she observes them and the rest of the surroundings quietly, pale eyes surveying the destruction that is in front of her. Almost languidly, but with a definite haughty stare, she meets the eyes of the men beyond; they remain where they are, watching her intently.

Jaya's head turns to Raava, assessing her appearance: from a distance, he considered that she may be the rare condition of an albino—everything about her was deathly white, as though looking at the treacherous moon; even her eyes were vacant, devoid of pupils, sending a tingle down his spine that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with fear. Instantaneously, he hated her, even though he was unsure why.

"Who's your friend?"

"This is Raava," Wan answers, inching to the right so that his arm brushed her shoulder, "we met while I was traveling,"

"I see," Jaya remarks, pointedly still keeping his gaze upon her, "you sure don't look like any human,"

"Because I'm not," Raava says, a mingling of pride and foolishness swelling within her, "I'm a spirit,"

Jaya pulls back, fire erupting from his palm as Wan smoothly steps between the two, back rod straight; Raava glares over his shoulder.

"There will be no fighting," Wan says to Jaya, and, inadvertently, to Raava.

Jaya tears his gaze from her to look at Wan, betrayal flashing briefly across his face, "Why are you protecting this spirit? They're evil, Wan! They killed all our friends,"

"There's no such thing as an evil spirit, Jaya," Wan replies, attempting to keep the calm, "except for one, whom we are trying to defeat,"

"They've bewitched you, Wan. That's what they do—they toy with you, mess with your mind, _possess_ you and you still want to call these things good?"

Raava seethes inwardly, bristling as she takes a step forward, Wan blocking her path by sticking out his arm, "None of this would be happening if you humans just respected us and the world you live in—look at what you've done to this forest! The spirits that have lived here reigned for centuries, long before the Ancient One took you upon its back and pitied you,"

"How dare you?" Jaya bellows, the fire in his hand burning hotter, as the rest of the group hurries over.

Wan shouts, "No! You _will not_ fight her,"

"Why? She is as bad as the rest of them,"

"Jaya, please, she is the Spirit of Light and Peace: she is on a mission to recapture the true cause of the violence that has been committed by the spirits—"

"Ha! She certainly doesn't act like it,"

"Of course not! I'm _infuriated, _you're only making things worse and you refuse to listen to reason!"

Wan's eyes peer over his shoulder at Raava, knows she is tense and angry and bitter, but these human emotions will pass—he just needs to prevent any feuding.

Mula tramples fast, narrowly avoiding a smaller group that suddenly burst from the brush. Wan and Raava whirl to face the newcomers, Mula standing beside them, both placing a comforting hand on either side of the cat-deer.

"The spirits are fighting back!" yells one of the men.

"Move out! We've come too far now to let them reclaim their precious forest," Jaya spits out, his expression mutinous.

"Jaya, no, wait!" Wan pleas, gripping his childhood friend by the wrist, "There has to be a way compromise,"

Jaya pauses, the sounds of his men far ahead; he faces Wan and a flicker of the boy who relied, trusted and admired him so much, the brother and friend who knew poverty and hardship, is there for just an instant before Jaya's face hardens again, no longer recognizable, "When did you become so against taking things by force?"

"I was wrong—it doesn't have to be like this,"

"You never cared before, and I don't care now. All that matters is that I get what I want, and I want vengeance—they have killed too many of us,"

Wan's desperation cracks, "When did you become so violent?"

"I was weak before, Wan; people change, for the better,"

"Or for the worse," he murmurs.

Jaya suddenly wrenches his hand away, darting off into the forest. Wan stares off into the distance, dread sinking into his chest, a heavy stone. Raava takes his hand, "Come, Wan, we must hurry,"

Together, they clamber onto Mula, who then races fast after the men. The scene in front of them is not yet chaotic, but the humans and spirits are about to engage in battle.

Spotting a familiar spirit, Wan leaps off Mula, sprinting over to skid in the dirt between the furious sides, "Stop or you really will destroy everything!"

"Stinky? You've come back!" exclaims the Aye-Aye.

Wan smiles, despite the situation, "it's good to see you again,"

"Wan! You know _this_ spirit?" Jaya shouts, looking affronted, "He's one of the most violent, terrible ones: he's possessed several of us until their bodies couldn't stand it anymore,"

"Thank you, human," the Aye-Aye, mockingly bowing, "for downgrading my attempts of _self-defense_,"

In a rush of adrenaline, as the skies darkened, Jaya runs straight at them, followed by several people in his group. Wan watches, terrified, as the spirits morph, becoming larger, blacker, and the volume of the cacophony intensifies tenfold.

Raava, at this time, had been running, and now near, she hands to him the Element of Air, and immediately he blasts each party away, fire extinguishing, spirits flying backward, but their rage is just too much, too long and painful a history.

"Raava! We have to try using all four!"

"We cannot! It isn't possible!" Raava replies above the din, frustration and worry building inside, completely useless in this body— in the back of her mind, she suddenly remembers why she is supposed to hate it. Then, another familiar feeling stirs, sick, twisted and darker than black—

"Wan!" she cries out, sensing the presence of her other half.

But the shadows dominate everything, the sounds of screams and ethereal roars drowning her voice in the sable colors.

When she comes to there is fire blazing everywhere. She is back to the day when she failed as the Spirit of Light and Peace, nothing but smog filling her lungs, and failure trickling the edges of her mind. Scanning the vicinity with watery eyes, coughing, she peers through the thick air and finds Mula attempting to waken an unconscious Wan.

Hurrying to his side, Raava kneels down, and then hoists him onto Mula's back. The cat-deer and the spirit sprint away from the devastated scene. Once far enough away from the site, Raava gathers Wan into her arms, Mula hovering anxiously before sniffing Wan's hair.

"He will be alright," she assures the cat-deer, pressing her hand against his chest, feeling the faint heartbeat, "He's much tougher than any of us think,"

"You _would _believe that," booms a familiar voice, chilling the marrow in her body, "Or perhaps you are more gullible than I thought,"

But the figure it belongs to is wrong, and she stares, disturbed, at the body of the one she loves with the voice of the one she hates. Even though the image is perturbing, sending another thrill down her spine, she cannot help but feel undeniably whole.

Her darker half walks forward, wearing the face of the man she's known for almost a year. He's toying with her, and she knows this is his way of sadistically getting what he wants—though what, she can't imagine or guess.

Evil simply does as it desires.

"How touching, Raava," he whispers, "You're in love with a human,"

She bristles, says nothing.

Vaatu dissipates into dark fog before materializing in his true form, gargantuan compared to them, and her heart clenches at the sight—he's gotten so much stronger; she knew this, but to see it...

He sighs satisfactorily, "It certainly was worth changing into him to see the look on your face—it's pathetic of you, Raava,"

"And so will your downfall be, when he defeats you,"

A laugh escapes him, "He is nothing but living, breathing muck—what is his power compared to us? I believe you shared the viewpoint with me, long ago,"

"People change,"

"Wrong, Raava," he hisses, suddenly wrathful, "Spirits are definite, never-changing; or has almost a year trapped in a human body affected you?"

"Perhaps it has, and I know he can defeat you—he's not like the others,"

"Touching," he sneers, "But your punishment will soon end, then you will meet your demise; no one can destroy me," Darkness murmurs, brushing aside ghostly hair; she does not flinch, but holds Wan closer, "And your precious human will die long before your rebirth,"

Raava's eyes widen a fraction before narrowing. Vaatu flies away, his body growing smaller until he is a speck, then nothing.

Finally, her head bowed, she places a soft kiss on his crown, the scent of ash in his hair; his hand reaches up to stroke her face. She pulls back, relieved, "Wan,"

"He's wrong, you know,"

Raava stares at him a moment, "You were awake?"

"Yes, around when you said I could beat him," Wan says, slowly sitting up. He rises to full height, Raava steadying him, "And he's wrong. I can defeat him—I have you,"

Raava's touched, though she knows it's silly to feel this way. Vaatu was right—her time with this human is almost gone…

His resolute expression breaks when he looks beyond the hill, fire continuing to scorch the earth. The dark flecks on burnt ground are his people, the whole area annihilated. Grief pulls him down, though he remains on his feet.

She brushes away his tears, "We have to go,"

He nods, once.

Mula darts off into a forest untouched by hatred, leaving their old home behind in memory.


	13. XI

**XI**

"Why is your punishment what it is?"

"Humanity, as I am sure you know, is seen as a baser position than even the most loathsome of tiers—to be human is equal to failure, violent and primitive,"

"Lowest of the low, huh?"

"For my kind, it may always be so—though I've learned different,"

"Well, that makes it a little less insulting,"

"Glad that assuages your damaged pride,"

"Yep, it does; but spirits were here long before humans, right?"

"Indeed, however, there are some things the universe understands before any of us even contemplate it. When man first took breath from the earth, it was an anomaly none of us anticipated; by that time, Vaatu had broken the bonds that separated the material world from the spirit realm,"

"You had mentioned humans expanded quickly, was it easy for Vaatu to use us?"

"In some ways, yes: humans are still pliable, easily swayed in either good or evil—for reasons unknown, humans are the only ones with this capability; and as they are the youngest of creatures to ever exist, he took advantage of the masses whenever the two of us passed, his presence just enough, using their lowest instincts until the Ancient Ones broke the population into factions,"

"Do you know why the Lion-Turtles intervened?"

"The Ancient Ones have insurmountable knowledge of all living beings and their purposes—I can only assume that it was a mingling between pity and understanding that caused them to teach humans language, moral, and anything else they saw fit for them to know,"

"Even though they were spirits?"

"Yes, and, at the time, the rest of us, including myself, disagreed with their generosity,"

"I know that Lion-Turtles can be understanding, but wouldn't it have been easier to eradicate us?"

"Such callousness from you, Wan, but I cannot deny that. The Ancient Ones are connected to great cosmic energy—it would've been very easy to annihilate you, had it not been written in the stars that humanity will exist; and, too, it would've been just as easy to control you, as lost and frightened as the first humans were."

"Why not control us, then? No disrespect, Raava, but if we could be taught moral, it would've been much easier to force it into us in the beginning,"

"Oh, I very much agree—you'd have been a lot less troublesome. Other older spirits proposed this to the Ancient Ones, but they refused. Unlike spirits and animals, born as creatures who cannot willingly choose to do despicable, evil things—even possession is seen as a way to protect ourselves, the last resort—humans, as I mentioned, have the ability to make choices, to choose darkness over light; and whatever they desire will be their outcome,"

"Raava, if you and Vaatu have been together since the beginning of time, and it seems as though both of you would experience the same things, why is he not punished to be a human being? And why until Harmonic Convergence?"

"To answer the second question first: the punishment would last only until Harmonic Convergence so that I can know the full extent of what it means to fail and to not repeat that mistake."

"Wait, and the punishment will be given to you no matter when Vaatu breaks free?"

"Yes."

"But that's not fair! Even if he had broken from you on the first day you would spend 10,000 years as a human being, he'd be left to do whatever he wants?"

"And this is where I answer your first question: when evil fails, that is its punishment in itself, for it has been defeated for a short period of time; when good fails, it is entirely different, for good is _never supposed to fail_, never supposed to succumb, and if it does, blame is pointed, people rally together and complain about how much evil there is and how little good is doing. In humans, I have seen, they expect everything to go perfectly once, with little to no understanding of the balance that has to be maintained, and encouragement is far from their minds. If Vaatu is defeated, people will flock in the streets and rejoice; if I am defeated, I will forever be the failure, the reminder the good had never tried hard enough, and so in order to keep that in my mind, I must be punished."

"That is an incredibly stupid double standard,"

"Am I wrong?"

"...no."

"That's how it's always been; and I suspect, no matter the era, good will always be patronized, told it's not doing all it can do until it gives the masses what they want. And even then, I doubt everyone will be satisfied,"

"Sounds like a pretty shitty fate,"

"Yes, Wan, I suppose it is…'shitty.' Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing, no reason; you know, fate is often talked about among humans,"

"An aspect with numerous speculations to name,"

"Would you agree then that it was our fate to meet?"

"Yes, I do concur. Fate is built upon choices, from what I've seen of your kind—every detail of your lives is woven based on where you choose to sew; destiny is slightly the same,"

"Destiny seems more of a general direction, isn't?"

"How did you come across this conclusion?"

"If fate is as you said—based on the decisions we make, then fate is something that must happen because it just has to, while destiny is something that will happen, no matter anything else,"

"I see…"

"Any idea what our destiny is?"

"No, though I am certain we will find out soon enough,"

"Together?"

"Together,"


	14. XII

**XII**

Harmonic Convergence approaches, their final days hanging over them, each dawn and dusk slipping.

The small entourage settled upon a hill, the sky laden with burning white stars.

Mula wandered off hours ago, as cat-deers are wont to do for the occasional solitude and Wan jumped at the chance, making a note to treat Mula later.

He wasn't exactly sure how it happened, having only cheered in his head that they were alone. Then she had gripped his robes and he lost what he wanted to talk about.

Raava relishes the sensation, having not experienced this all that time ago, in another time within a time, where he showed her laughter, fun, adrenaline, and the soft, gentle movement of his lips.

She darts the tongue into his mouth, hesitation forgotten. He moans and she swallows the sound, reverberating in her core.

The body jerks, responding with new, profound aches, and she presses against him as he threads his fingers into her hair. Falling, he slowly lowers her to the earth, kissing her heatedly, as she pulls him flush against her. In this wild abandon, a voice hisses, telling her that this is wrong, that this is something that should not be done—it is forbidden, simply on the old fact that _it is_.

She pants, his tongue leaving a hot trail down her throat, nipping gently at her collarbone. Sighing, she tilts her head back, before his mouth moves up, skimming the side of her jaw, before kissing her fully on the mouth again; she feels no shame or embarrassment, drowning in these new experiences.

Her fingers slide across the sides of his head, skeletal, pale spears sinking into the black, binding him to death for loving her; he doesn't care as he roves a hand beneath her clothing, doesn't care as he allows himself to forget everything aside from the feel of her skin and she writhes beneath him; he gives in to what he can only call instinct, not thinking at all as he suckles a taut nipple, quietly observing how the moonlight washes over the flesh, making it faintly gleam, her own luminescence adding to the effect; and his fingers glisten when he raises them to the light.

Heart quickening, moaning softly, Raava bites her lower lip, clenching her fists. Blank white-blue eyes suddenly widen, a surprised gasp leaving her when the lower body bucked upward. The universe mocks and scolds her, for she has truly hit the lowest point, allowing the desecration of her very self at the hands, mouth and words of a human. Yet she can't bring herself to tell him to stop, or even to feebly ask explanations on why she is reacting this way—he is simply everywhere, tongue hot and smooth upon her inner thigh, every sensation richer, more vibrant than before. She just knows it feels incredible as heat pools into the pit of her stomach and she fights down the urge to scream.

Wan pulls back, licking the clit, watching the last of her convulsions die away, wondering how best to proceed. Raava lets out a rushed breath, then props herself on her elbows, confused.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks, curious herself.

"No," he replies, "I just… don't want to frighten you at this next part,"

"Why would I be frightened?"

"You're not human, Raava. I didn't even explain what I did just now…"

She smiles, "Then don't explain,"

Wan glances up, surprised.

"I trust you," she murmurs, warm and glowing, and she silences anything he had to say as she pries apart his clothing, mimicking his movement from memory by kissing down his chest, breasts touching the bare skin while moving slowly lower. He quickly undoes the sash, the rest, her calm acceptance giving him renewed confidence.

Her hands upon his back, Raava lets out a low whimper, breath on her ear, tongue on her neck. Then he makes a quick gentle move with his hip, and her nails suddenly leave long red marks, causing him to hiss. She glances at his face, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted. Fascinated at this strange look between pleasure and pain, a hand descends, nails skimming languidly on the surface of his stomach; his muscles twitch from her touch.

Something hot, long and soft; instinctually, she takes the shaft and his eyes shut tighter, letting out a groan. Raava is completely unaware of what she's doing, other than she simply allows herself not to think. Her fingers delve between grooves of skin, giving the foreign object the occasional squeeze, even scratching what she assumes is the heavy tip, heart beating fast as she continues to watch his face, amazed that she's making him feel this—he is completely at her control with every flick of her wrist, not even caring that he so explicitly allowed her to touch, what she was very sure, is a private part of himself: not the body alone, but his sighs, his expressions, the way he digs his hands into the grass, tearing them from their roots just as she destroys him, a murder he allowed her to complete.

She pulls her hand up when a sticky, wet substance coats her fingers. She stares for a moment, transfixed. This sight strengthens an already iron resolve, and it occurs to her, somehow, he's never experienced this before either.

They're feeling all these pristine, same things for the first time, together.

This pleases her so immensely she kisses him, and he concedes, murmuring nothing and everything. The shaft she touched is warm, she feels it delving inside and she opens wider to take him in, not caring how voices scream in her head to stop before it's too late—this is a bond, a silent contract that neither of them can break, slipping into the Vaatu of the material world.

She smirks as she moans, damning it all. For this one last night, he is hers and hers alone.

"Shit," he breathes, the dark tightness swallowing him all around.

A very uncharacteristic giggle leaves her throat, and he grins back, spellbound when she suddenly rotates her hips experimentally, his hands on either side of her head before flicking a nipple, causing her to shudder.

A rhythm sets, painstakingly slow yet dizzying. He bows his head, kissing her shoulder, strands of ink spilling off his own into the tendrils of silver, whispering her name to which she responds with a loving kiss on his cheek.

The tempo increases, breathing harshly as she arches her back, drinking him in while floating inside a darkness she didn't know could be so sweet—that blackness could bring bliss. Licking the tender skin, tasting salt again, the slick muscle between her legs pulses; her toes curl in, she's breathing her last, she's breathing her first. Gasping, she places her knees on either side of his hips, and he moves faster.

The tightness constricts his lungs, sweat beading down and despite the surrounding silence, her sounds fill his ears. His eyes carefully open, not wanting to shatter the illusion, but it intensifies when he meets her gaze, stumbling into eyes that rival the moon and seas. She caresses his face, dragging him close for a fierce kiss, teeth drawing blood in her fervor and he doesn't mind.

He loves her too much.

The thought settles in his core, a gentle light illuminating him from the inside out. Any doubt that remained, however small, flees in quiet terror as he speeds the rocking of his hips, nipping the underside of her jaw and he listens in rapture when her moans become a little louder, his name a sacred word she gives to the cosmos birthing new stars.

Her fire-wielder bends her, and she lets him, not caring how inferior this is—liquid inferno burns the human blood, pyretic glory, pushing her over the edge of the precipice she fought hard to maintain for the sake of her pride. Once far below the surface of sanity, she senses him coming and catches him in a very different sort of oblivion.

They submit, human and spirit, mortal and immortal, dark and light, to everything they want, shattering in and on each other in sharp relief as the climax blinds them with colors and truths—there's nothing in the world but balance, and everything is right.

Raava brushes back his hair, beaming at him.

"Happy, are we?" he pants, returning the smile.

She nods quite vigorously, still out of breath, her death-colored skin flushed with life and he laughs before planting a chaste kiss on her forehead, docile and careful compared to everything else.

In the afterglow, the thoughts she dispersed from her mind come back unbidden, her own personal demons. Wan wraps an arm around her shoulder, aware of what she's contemplating now.

"We're going to make it," he murmurs in her ear.

"You're very sure of yourself,"

"I have to be—I just had sex with the most gorgeous spirit-woman on earth,"

She laughs, and cold darkness recedes as she snuggles into his warmth, watching moonlight dapple tan skin, "'Sex.' That's what it's called?"

"Technical term," he winks.

"But…Wan," she whispers, voice low and hoarse, "There's a chance we may not survive,"

"I know," he replies, "I've known since I messed up. But there's always the chance we will make it."

She leans upon his chest, his arms around her, thinking of eternity and death. He's right. She holds his hand and he twines their fingers together.

"I will not become my true self until Harmonic Convergence actually comes—when the planets align. We'll need to stay on guard the whole time when we battle against Vaatu,"

"And so we will,"

Stars twinkle up ahead, the vast canvas of dark blue a shade lighter.

"The punishment I've been given..."

"Yes?"

Raava turns to face him, smiling, "It doesn't feel like one at all,"

Wan presses his forehead against hers, smirking, "Still hate me?"

"Just the opposite," and she pushes him back down to prove it.


	15. XIII

**XIII**

He leaves the world he knows and enters hers, a black and red shadow following the stoic white frame. Wan stares up into wide open blue, taking in his surroundings before looking over to the distant spirit portal yonder. Raava walks up beside him as he slides down off Mula's back, she, too, glancing around the place that is her home.

"Are you ready?"

He takes her hand, "I'm ready,"

Wan turns his head to look at her, noticing how faint, transparent, she appears. The end of her sentence is approaching rapidly, and they need to last that long until Harmonic Convergence officially happens. She warned him that from then on, if they managed to keep up, she will have to physically pass through his body to transfer the four elements.

"If I stay inside you for too long, you will die,"

"Better to die helping you then to live under Vaatu's reign."

From the other side of the barren landscape, Darkness passes over jagged crevices, his large, looming frame casting gray shadows until he settles before them.

"Raava," Vaatu's voice booms, "I have been waiting for this—it would've been so easy to kill you as a human, but to permanently end you requires Harmonic Convergence. Now I no longer have to wait…"

"No," Raava replies, her own voice strong and calm, "you no longer have to."

Wan blasts a jet of red and gold from his fingertips, the fire slashing through Vaatu body; Raava, not surrounded by people, takes a chance when Vaatu expands his form, about to send a wave of energy toward Wan— she raises an arm above her head, a slab of earth following the motion, then hurling it in his direction.

Wan sends streams of fire out of his hands and feet, rising higher and higher, until he performs a roundhouse kick to send flames soaring. As he falls, he shoots wave after wave of hot red flashes, Raava beneath him, ensuring that he doesn't leave her sight, not even for a moment.

Vaatu growls furiously, spins in the air, the end of his body lashing, looping around Wan's form and violently thrashing the human to the ground.

"Wan!" Raava calls out, hurrying over to him.

"How touching," Vaatu snarls, expanding, as though drawing breath, and sends a purplish-black beam in their direction, the sound of . Quickly, Raava sends a draft of air out of her hand, free arm holding Wan close. Swapping Elements, Raava and Wan stand to their full height, facing Vaatu.

He glides with an almost mocking fluidity in their direction. Raava and Wan rush toward him simultaneously, their bodies at the same height, speed equal, steps measured. Bending, transferring, dancing, they counter his attacks, dodging blasts of dark energy.

Vaatu attempts to separate them, lashing between them with his long appendages, annoyed. Gripping Raava by the ankle, throwing her mercilessly into crooked peaks, relishing in the sound of her pathetic groans, Vaatu tosses her high into the air, about to send the shockwave at her stupidly fragile body when, suddenly, Wan is before him, balancing upon a heap of ground, expression murderous, baring teeth, golden suns ablaze before sending a whirlwind of Fire, a wall of hell, into his face with a bloodthirsty yell.

Vaatu cannot help but cry out in surprise, even pain, as the lengthy blast of flame and gale passes through him. Enraged, he whirls to face the human, who is steadying Raava to her feet with extreme tender care. Immediately, Vaatu sends another blast at them.

Wan anticipated this, taking her into his arms and dodging swiftly. Raava, cut and bruised, bleeding a little from the head, whispers, "Wan, put me down, I can do this."

"You're hurt—"

"This is what I do!" she tells him, gripping his shoulder for support.

Taking her hand, he spins her out of harm's way just as a dark tentacle stabs him through the chest.

"Wan!"

Spasms course through his body, the core of him shaken. As suddenly as it came, it leaves, though the imprint of evil's touch wounds him, spitting out a trail of crimson. Holding his side, he clumsily gets to his feet, rushing to her, they can't be separated—

Vaatu lashes out, smacking each individual in the chest, sending them far from each other. Anger fills the void, sensing the alignment of the universe and it fills him with an undulating sense of triumph.

Tripping over leaden feet, Raava stares at her hands, pearly white, seeing the ground through the skin. The end is close, her time as a human nearly over—the beginning unknown.

It resonates in her body, listening to Wan and Vaatu battle, two beings she is connected to, one battling for her life, the other for her death.

She breathes, a momentary eternal flash of hurt, and she bursts from human flesh, skin, blood and bone dissolving to nothing. Significantly smaller from Darkness' growth, but, somehow, large enough—protected by the very prison she hated—and she flies with all her might toward her male counterparts.

Even across the way, she hesitates slightly, fearing damaging him—he's never experienced the true horrible power of being possessed by a spirit. But even from this distance, he stretches his hand out to her, trust radiating from his eyes, "Raava! The only way to win is together!"

Thus, she joins him.

His heart collapses, unendurable pain filling him for a fraction of forever. In the lightless moiety of his mortal shell, Light stares about her, and, there, finds his soul: young, amazing and frightened.

She realizes she's scared too.

This is different from sex, where she was exploring the thrilling aspects of a form not truly hers. Here, she is finally exposed, vulnerable and open in the vast vicinity of his core—this human body she does not control; this human body of her loved one and he may die. Cautiously, dread dripping poison into her thoughts, she approaches the soul of the human who stole her life, a twist of fate, and returned it, a twist of destiny.

He recognizes her, his soul. Everything, once again, is new: her presence, her peace, but he wants to reject it on instinct. This bond, too, is unbreakable, a karmic link with a price: eternity.

And human souls are meant to live once, alone.

They are not meant to withstand such turmoil—the most delicate of all the universe's creatures. That is how they are born, and then they rest.

Could she dare to ask him to be tired and weary as she discovered she is? Could she dare to perform one last act of selfishness to keep him alive? Could she dare ask him to become one with her for the rest of his days, and beyond that?

There's no other choice…

She feels the distant vibrations of fierce war, the constant stream of Elements pouring out his fingertips, calloused from hard work, and loving in the night.

_Don't be afraid._

_Why shouldn't I be?_

Vaatu bellows hatred and destruction, manic glee filling him and she feels it, a distant, discordant echo. He has Wan pinned beneath him.

_I am your friend._

_I know you are…somehow._

_I need you to help me, please._

Wan stretches out his hand, knowing what must be done—willing, touching the flow of the portal.

Light can tell what he'd chosen, catching the change, the tug she's felt with Darkness loosening, sending her reeling into another space as she bonds with another spirit: human, disturbed, imperfect, whole and entirely devoted to her.

She feels joy course through her; she knew he'd come through.

Because he loves her as she does him: indefinitely.

_We are bonded forever._

Together, a new kind of balance forms, different undersides of dark and light, and Vaatu battles the human possessed by his other half—futilely, desperately, sensing that her connection to his evil is severed in thousands upon thousands of ways: man and spirit are halves finally fitting, and Darkness swears, one day, he will break them apart, just as Wan broke her from him.

Darkness curses within the Tree of Time, infuriated, watching his freedom and failure over and over, but because he is still linked to Light, for they are too entwined to be cut completely, he gazes in bleary fury as she finds her own sense of peace.

"This is far from over, Raava!"

Inside the soul of her beloved, Light curls further into human's soul; Wan's hand presses against his chest, feeling her flutter in the sanctuary of his body.

_But for now, it is._

"I told you we'd make it," he whispers, voice raw and passionate—closer to her than before.

She blooms beautifully inside him.

_And we found our destiny._


	16. XIV

**XVI**

The death of Wan came as a severe blow.

It was as though she was experiencing the death herself, even though it wasn't she—but they had been together for too long.

Exhausted, gray, lines drawn upon the weathered face, he sank low to the ground, apologizing for his failure. It was so sad to hear him talking this way, her beloved Wan, still noble and courageous after all this time. But that's just the kind of person he is.

The kind of person he always will be.

She gathered his soul into herself, as much a part of her as the Elements, the eternal keepsakes of their journey together.

Drifting skyward, into the golden atmosphere that reminded her so much of his eyes, Light travels with no destination, listening to the quiet fluttering sound of his soul. He must be reborn: it's what he chose to do when he decided on her, and even now, his love for her beats.

Roaming the earth, passing places she will always know, she glides over mountain ridges, across streams, spends several moments in the resting place of Mula, under a beautiful grove of trees, before carrying on. She makes a conscious decision—she will follow the path they made.

So she floats on, aimless, until she finds the one, almost illusory, but it's a true vision.

A little girl, dark in every way, save for eyes as gray as cloudy skies. This is who Wan will be reborn as—the universe instructed it.

Cradling him inside, Raava gently enters the womb of a human woman, unseen, unfelt, and rests there—a reprieve until the pain of birth.

It's an explosion of harsh, white light, cold and seemingly empty.

This is human birth—she has simply always existed; the shock of leaving dark crimson is subdued by the warmth of arms.

They named her Dorje: indestructible.

She bends gentle, unbound Air.

She is shy.

She is curious about couples.

She likes watching sunlight glimmer on the water's edge.

She has Wan's smile.

She is chosen to continue the legacy.

She will need guidance.

_Good thing we're here to give her any._

Raava cannot help but smile.

_It will be difficult._

_ I know—but we've faced worse._

_ Isn't guiding children a tortuous process for humans?_

_ Only if you want to look at it that way—I, for one, think she's adorable._

_ You always were easily susceptible to lovely faces._

_ Hey! Not always!_

Raava laughs inside; Dorje laughs out loud.

_ The first incarnation of an Avatar…_

_ Is that what we're going to be called?_

_ Yes—the descent of a Supreme Being to earth._

_ You spirits really do know everything._

_ Not everything; I didn't expect us to be so entwined._

_ I think it worked out pretty okay._

_ Yes… It seems so._

_ When do we let her know who we are?_

_ Very soon._

The child will face many dangers, for the world will demand Good to do all it can do, scrutinized and shamed if she cannot bring ease; it will take lifetimes.

Raava softly caresses the child's soul, mind and heart.

The little Airbender grins for no purpose—simply happy.

_For now, she can be who she is._

_ And that's perfect._

Within the small incarnation of man and spirit, there is peace and balance in their own personal universe.


End file.
